


Oh My Gourd

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Humor, Riddikulus Fest, fairy magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: When she is left out of the Malfoys' ritzy Samhain ball, Hermione makes a deal with a leprechaun so she can crash the party in style. But she forgets the most important thing about leprechauns: they love their pranks.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: Dramione Crack!Fics, Ha-Ha-Halloween 2020





	Oh My Gourd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarena/gifts).



> Written for Riddikulus Fest's Ha-Ha-Halloween Mini Fest!
> 
> This story is for sarena. Thanks for the prompt!

Listen: I’m a smart person. I did pretty well at Hogwarts. They even gave me a Time-Turner when I was a  _ child _ , just so I can do  _ all the classes _ . After I graduated, I got my first job at the Ministry of Magic, and my career has been on an upward trajectory ever since.

Did I mention I helped take down the most vicious wizard in contemporary times with just a  _ book _ ?

Very. Smart.

I’m also usually pretty humble about my accomplishments. But as I sit here in the dark with slimy, slippery pumpkin guts in places where they should definitely not be, I need to remind myself that I’m a clever witch-slash-human being. Because how I got in this mess makes me feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

It began with a fairy named Sweetshine. To be more specific, she’s a leprechaun from a rural part of Ireland who had stowed away in an elderly witch’s trunk. The witch was going on holiday to visit her daughter in Sheffield, and it was her first time traveling outside the country by herself, and so she was entirely out of sorts. But that’s neither here nor there; it’s only that she didn’t notice her trunk was a stone heavier than it should have been.

Upon her arrival at the daughter’s flat, Sweetshine had made a daring escape wherein, as she had put it, she had very nearly died in the maw of the guardian beast. (I’ve since visited this flat. This “beast” turns out to be a Pomeranian with cataracts.) She then traveled to nearby Sherwood Forest, where she terrorized unsuspecting hikers for weeks.

That’s where I found her. Or, to be more accurate, that’s where she found  _ me _ . Because I was meandering the trail where she was last sighted, but I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.

“ _ Eep!” _ I yelped as my toe stubbed against a rock on the path. I had lost my balance, face already hurtling towards the ground, when a firm hand grabbed my arm and yanked me upright.

“I swear to Merlin,” my partner mumbled, steadying me on my feet. “Did you not line up for ‘grace’ or ‘poise’ when they were handing them out? Or even ‘simple coordination’?”

“No,” I said, grateful for the dim light of my  _ Lumos _ -tipped wand. I hoped the night hid the flush of my cheeks. “I was much too busy filling up on ‘human decency.’ You know, I don’t think I saw you there, Malfoy.” It was the best quip I could make while his hands were still on my shoulders. His woodsy cologne felt more real and appealing than the entirety of Sherwood Forest.

Draco frowned. “You’ve been snapping at me all day.” His hands stayed on my shoulders another moment, his eyes squinting at me curiously before he stepped back. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” I said quickly, trying—and failing—to suppress the image of the ornate ivory invitation left on his desk earlier that morning. 

Alright: so I suppose this story really began earlier that day, when the invitation was hand-delivered by Narcissa Malfoy herself.

“It’s for my annual Samhain ball. I apologize for not extending you an invitation, but,”—Narcissa’s cool gaze glanced me up and down—”I don’t think your sort will enjoy yourselves there. But I’m sure you already have something loud and lively lined up. Perhaps something at the Weasley’s Hole?”

My teeth clenched. “The Burrow,” I forced out.

“Right,” Narcissa said with disinterest. She donned immaculate white gloves, and then flashed me with a practiced smile. “Well.” She headed out of the office without another word.

An hour passed before Draco came back—an hour of the invitation lying on his desk, goading my mind with images of Draco surrounded by perfectly coifed, fabulously-dressed women who were well-versed in decorum.

It would have ruined anyone’s mood.

So his comment about lacking poise or grace...well…

It stung.

I threw a Ron-esque insult at him (“Shove off, Malfoy!”), and then stomped further down the trail, losing him in the twists and turns. A few minutes later, I came upon a magnificent oak tree. I settled down against it, staring up at the stars peeking through the canopy of leaves.

“Oof! That was tough to watch,” a squeaky voice said.

I jumped up, swallowing the screech in my throat. I pointed my wand left and right. A polite cough clued me to direct the light towards the ground.

A green creature with hair the color of Crookshanks’ fur smiled up at me sweetly. “Are you okay?” she asked.

In hindsight, telling her my “boy problems” was not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But what can I say—I don’t have a lot of girlfriends, you know? Ginny is always off on one trip or another; Luna can’t stay on topic for more than a few minutes. And there was absolutely  _ no way _ I would have confided in Harry or Ron that I was in love with Draco-bloody-Malfoy (as Harry refers to him).

So when this creature who seemed lovely enough asked all the right questions, everything spilled out: the months of pining, the second-guessing, and the feeling that I’d never be quite good enough in his family’s eyes.

Afterward, when Sweetshine said, “I have an idea,” I bent down to listen.

And I ignored the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

And this is how, a few days later, I ended up stark naked inside a giant pumpkin just outside the gates of the Malfoy estate. Oh, too much of a jump?

Well, okay, the plan was this— 

Step one: Sweetshine uses her leprechaun magic to surround me with gold. I bring her a pumpkin (done) so she can turn it into a golden carriage (done). 

Step two: She dresses me up in a glitzy gown. I offer to let her transform my clothes, but she says that they’re too drabby to hold any shine, magic or no. So I strip them off in the cover of the forest’s shadows, trying not to be too insulted. She weaves a shimmery golden dress on me out of thin air (done).

Step three: Drive up to the Malfoys’ manor in style and splendour—

And this is where it all went awry.

Because as soon I reached the stately gates, Sweetshine’s magic wore off, and then—

Well. You know the rest.

I never got a chance to do Step Four: Attend the ball and dazzle everyone with my intellect and personality. Or with my dress, literally.

Instead of being in the party, I’ve been blasting spells at the gourd, which only resulted in even more pumpkin flesh sliding on top of me.

Finally, I hear a muffled sound from the other side of the thick wall.

“Help!” I yell. “I’m stuck!”

I think I hear the words, “Stand back!” and I scramble to the other side, In the last second, I remember that I don’t have a single stitch on. I cover my most intimate parts with pumpkin strings and hold an oversized seed against my chest.

A  _ Confringo _ blasts a sizeable hole through the orange wall. An arm reaches in, wand in hand, lighting up the cavernous gourd. Then a head peeks through.

Draco’s eyebrows lift as he spots me in the mess. “Granger? What the—” His gaze slowly travels up my body, string-tangled ankles to sodden curls. “I am so confused,” he says roughly, giving me another sweep, “in so many ways.” 

Our eyes meet, and he glances away. 

“There’s a reasonable explanation for this,” I say in my most pragmatic tone (because really, what else do I have at this point? Certainly not dignity.) 

“ _ Is _ there?” He offers me his other hand. “Let’s get you out, and you can tell me all about it.”

I take his hand, using it to steady myself as I reach him. He turns around and undoes his cloak while I slide out of the hole, every inch of me sticky and gooey. He hands the cloak over his shoulder, and I take it from him.

I wrap myself in the luxurious fabric. His scent immediately settles my frantic nerves. “Okay,” I say, steeling myself for a mocking smirk and relentless teasing.

But when he faces me, there’s a ruddiness to his cheeks, and he can barely maintain eye contact without the flush getting deeper. He takes my hand in his. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

Behind him, the Manor is lively. Shadowed figures mill behind its bright, grand windows. I yank my hand back. “No, I can’t.” I gesture wildly at myself. “Not like this.”

“It’ll be fine, Granger—”

“No!” 

He turns to me again, and he studies me this time, his gaze flitting over my face as intensely as he analyzes field reports. “I promise you, I won’t leave you. If you’d like, I can take you through a private entrance to my suites so no one will see you. But I really need to take you inside.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s freezing out here, and you’re wet and barely clothed,” he says. “Because it goes against proper decorum for me to turn away a guest who shows up at my doorstep. And most importantly, because…” He falters.

“What?” I ask.

He glances at the mutilated pumpkin, and then at me, at the outline of my figure under his cloak. “Because I’m in terrible danger of developing a kink for pumpkins.”

I bite back a smile—hell, I bite back raucous, giddy laughter bubbling in my chest at the thought of Draco Malfoy having any kind of sexual fantasy about me—and I say, “Of course. We wouldn’t want that.” I nod solemnly. “Especially since they’re only seasonal.” 

“Exactly.” He smiles and takes my hand again.

“Well, then.” I stare at the glitzy Manor. Draco’s touch is warm. I raise my chin higher. “Lead the way.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Hermione should have known that fairies weren't to be trusted. Instead of a glamourous entry to the Malfoys' Samhain festivities, pompous carriage and all that, she now was sitting in an oversized, carved pumpkin. Submitted by sarena.


End file.
